


The Price of Magic

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Flashbacks, Good Morgana (Merlin), Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Hurt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Nightmares, Protective Knights (Merlin), Queen Gwen (Merlin), Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: While out on a Hunt, Merlin has the unfortunate luck of being captured, along with the Knights. It leads to some truths being shown, while Merlin adamantly protects the Queen and the Lady Morgana
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin) & Everyone
Comments: 26
Kudos: 285
Collections: Merlin





	1. Hurt

Merlin rose his head, looking over to his friends, before his gaze returned to their captors.

‘I’m offering you the chance to do this peacefully, boy.’ Arthur would never forgive him. Not that it mattered, because if Merlin told them what they wanted to know, he’d never forgive himself.

If there was one person, Arthur aside, that Merlin’s loyalty belonged to, it was the Queen of Camelot. Following that, his two closest friends, and the High Priestess. That was just how it was, he didn’t need to think about that.

Morgana and Guinevere weren’t in Camelot. They’d gone travelling, telling nobody where they were going, fearful of traitors close to Camelot’s crown. The only one that could tell Arthur where his sister and his Queen had gone, was the Court Sorcerer of Camelot.

Then, Arthur had to open his mouth. Suggesting a Hunt, and of course the Knights were onboard. That left Merlin to tag along, because he couldn’t leave the Prat to get ambushed by bandits, or captured by unruly bounty Hunters.

He hadn’t expected a calculated attack. He’d not expected Agravaine to betray Morgana, turning instead to the Saxon army.

He hadn’t expected the cold iron that was sizzling around his wrists, burning away as he hung from the ceiling, feet barely brushing the floor.

Arthur snarled from behind the cloth in his mouth, yanked at the chains that held his hands behind his back.

‘Where’s the High Priestess?’ Merlin, of course, knew her exact location. They were linked, bound together with Magic that meant he could give them her specific location. He could even given them directions, leading up to the mountain path and across to the small alcove she was currently in.

‘I have absolutely no idea.’ Merlin cheered, smirking at the man opposite him.

He was rewarded with a fist to his gut, gasping as tears pricked at his eyes, rocking back from the hit.

‘Once more, before we can get started.’ The other man, the noble, said. The torturer nodded, gripping Merlin’s hair and yanking his head up so that he was looking at the noble.

‘Where’s the High Priestess?’ He repeated, calmy, and the Warlock forced his feet to hold him up, preparing for the next blow.

‘I haven’t the faintest clue.’

**

When he’d brought Morgana back to Camelot, it had been after her fever. She’d reached temperatures that even Gaius would have struggled to bring down, pale and sickly and clinging to Merlin like he was her last lifeline. Murmuring apologies, whispering words about plots to kill the King, but he didn’t care.

He had carried her to Gaius, dropped down to his knees in front of the King of Camelot and begged Arthur to speak to her. To let her heal.

He had.

Merlin loved Arthur for that, smiled proudly the first time that the Pendragon siblings hugged. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something.

Gwen had tended to her, not yet Queen at this point, and Merlin had watched over both of them. It was his job, you see, to protect Camelot and his friends.

**

‘Why protect her?’ The noble questioned, looking slightly disgusted at the blood staining Merlin’s torso. He rose his head, panting out as he tried to regain feeling in his wrists.

‘Screw you.’ He hissed, spitting blood at the man.

The noble sighed, nodded to his executioner, and the large man turned back. His hand drifted over the knife, over the hammer, pausing when he reached the rod of cold iron.

‘We won’t hurt the Queen.’ The noble promised him, full of lies. Merlin looked to the cold iron, gulped as it was brought closer to his torso.

Arthur was begging, from behind the gag.

‘Where’s the High Priestess.’ Merlin didn’t even bother him with a reply, just watched as his torturer brought the cold iron down to his stomach.

It burned. Hissed, fire stretching across the skin as he arched up, a silent scream that he caught in his throat.

Morgana and Guinevere would be back in Camelot in three days. That was all he had to wait for, all he had to keep him going.

**

The Knights of Camelot had all accepted his Magic without hesitation. It helped that Gwaine and Lancelot already knew, but the other three still comforted him when he admitted to it. Leon had promised this didn’t change his opinion on Merlin, while Elyan dragged him in to ruffle his hair. Percival had done the same, quietly accepting, and Merlin had never felt happier.

Arthur had watched with a fond smile, before rolling his eyes when Merlin bounced back to his side.

‘Don’t smile so much, Merlin, you’ll scare half of Camelot away.’

**

Merlin smiled, dragged his lips back into a sneer. He could taste the blood, knew it was staining his teeth as the man drew the cold iron back.

‘You’ve been tortured before.’ He commented, walking around Merlin’s body and studying the skin that had broken open on his back. Lashes hurt, without the added pain of it being made from cold iron.

‘By people far more terrifying than you.’ Merlin admitted, looking down to his stomach. The cut was bad, would get infected if it wasn’t tended to.

‘It would be easier for you, if you broke now.’ The torturer reached out, digging fingers into one of the lashes across Merlin’s back.

The Warlock sucked in air, let his head thump back against his arm.

This was no different from the other times he’d been tortured, he told himself. It didn’t matter that Arthur was there, that the Knights were there. If he reminded the people of that, they might turn on the others, and he could not have that.

‘I don’t break.’ Merlin told him, knowing it was true.

‘Every man breaks.’ The man told him, also knowing it was true.

**

‘You really are odd, Merlin.’ The Warlock turned to his King, shrugging.

‘I told you, I didn’t want recognition.’ His new Chambers were far more lavish than he deserved. A bed lined with furs, shelves filled with books, a wardrobe with new clothes.

‘Any man would kill to be by the King’s side.’ Arthur pointed out, but his tone was teasing, lips tugging back into a smirk as Merlin rolled his eyes.

‘To be by your egotistical self? How sad.’ Arthur threw a pillow at his head, the nearest thing he could reach, and Merlin laughed as he deflected it away with Magic.

Arthur halted, before smiling.

‘You know, I’ll never get used to that.’ Merlin paused, before returning the grin, trying not to blush under the scrutiny.

‘My Magic’s for you, Arthur. It always will be.’

**

‘Has he said anything?’ The noble was standing in the doorway, while Merlin dutifully pretended to be unconscious. Let his head roll to the side, kept his breathing steady.

‘Not a word except sass, milord.’

‘Try pulling nails. If that doesn’t work, do the back teeth.’ Merlin maintained the façade, even if his heart skipped.

He had to keep Morgana safe. He hadn’t come this far, to let her fall back into enemy hands now. This was, in a roundabout way, for Arthur.

‘I don’t think that will get him to talk, Sire.’ The torturer reached for him, Merlin staying still as he was manoeuvred to turn, back to the noble. Fingers scraped away the blood, pointing to the raised veins on his shoulder.

‘What in Albion is that?’ The noble sounded horrified, disgusted, curious as he stepped closer.

‘A Serket sting, milord.’

‘Impossible.’

‘I don’t think pain will make him break.’ The torturer repeated, the noble humming.

‘Then break his mind.’

**

‘You know, Merls, I’ve never met anyone like you.’ The Court Sorcerer of Camelot ducked his head, trying to avoid Gwaine’s stare. Even after all this time, praise was a thing he hated.

‘All part of my charm.’ He joked, ignoring the way that Gwaine continued to stare. It was intoxicating, the feeling of affection and adoration that rushed through his veins as he looked at the Knight.

Merlin also knew that he couldn’t choose anything over Destiny, not even a certain rogue-Knight that his heart had got attached to.

‘Can you show me something?’ Magic, that was always what Gwaine wanted to see. Whether it was to help them sneak through the Castle, or helping win Tavern games, Merlin’s Magic had never been more appreciated.

‘Anything in particular?’ He asked, kicking his feet out to the grass and waiting.

Gwaine paused, tapping a finger to his lips before grinning.

‘Show me you.’

Merlin couldn’t even find it in him to be embarrassed when the butterflies formed before he could give the command.

**

‘It must be lonely.’ Merlin rose his head, looking across to the torturer. In the cell, the Knights were being fed, servants bringing them waterskins and bits of bread.

Merlin’s meal remained on the table, next to the blood-stained iron used to torture him.

‘What?’ His throat hurt, enough so that saying that word rubbed the skin raw.

‘Serving the King of Camelot. It must be lonely.’ Right, the whole breaking his mind thing. Merlin ignored him, looking to the bread and water. Honestly, it had never looked more inviting.

‘You were a servant, weren’t you? Before you were Court Sorcerer.’ The man reached for the waterskin, popping the top off and waiting.

‘Yes.’ He admitted, figuring it could do no harm.

He was rewarded by the waterskin being brought to his lips, a mere drizzle moistening his tongue as he swallowed.

‘Why protect the Knights as well, then?’ Merlin blinked in confusion, licking his cracked lips.

‘Servants are treated poorly by Knights. I don’t doubt they raised a hand to you.’

‘They’re good men.’ Merlin shot back, but he’d unintentionally given away the information.

‘Not those Knights, perhaps. But others did. Hurt you, right under the King’s nose.’

**

Merlin winced, wrapping the burn with one hand, biting the end of the bandage to hold it in place while a quick flash of Magic finished it off. Admiring his work, he replaced Gaius’s healing equipment, moving towards the door.

It was Tournament Season. Merlin hated it, because it brought all manner of threats to Arthur, along with nobles that seemed to have a vendetta against Merlin just because of who he was.

He had to admit, he did try harder when he wasn’t just serving the King. Less back-chat, more polite bows and titles used appropriately.

Sometimes, it didn’t matter. Sometimes, a Knight would decide to hurt him anyway.

He glanced back to his burn, before shrugging on his jacket to hide all proof of injuries.

**

Merlin didn’t respond.

‘Why didn’t you use your Magic against them? Too afraid your King wouldn’t protect you?’ He bit his tongue, mostly because the urge to defend Arthur was something that might get him in a bigger hole than the one he was already in.

‘Bet they’re responsible for some of these scars, hey?’ A hand moved to his arms, looking at some of the silvery scars that Merlin despised.

The waterskin was brought back, Merlin shaping his lips around it and guzzling it down greedily.

‘I bet it wasn’t just raising a hand to you, either.’ Merlin ignored him, continuing to drain as much water as he could.

‘Did they let their hands wander?’ He choked, coughed up the mouthful of water while the man opposite him smirked.

‘Oh, that’s a sore spot.’ Merlin couldn’t help it, his cheeks darkened, only confirming the words that the man had said.

‘I bet they threatened to tell your King, didn’t they? Or, did they threaten something else?’ Merlin ducked his head away from him, ignoring the chuckling.

**

‘She’s pretty.’

‘Don’t you dare.’ Merlin snarled, unable to help himself. The Knight laughed, a hand coming down to Merlin’s wrist and dragging him away from the Feast.

Merlin wanted Arthur to look up, to see what was happening.

‘Have you had a go with her? She certainly looks like she’d be good in bed.’ Merlin threw the punch before he even thought about what he was doing, listening to the sound it made when it connected with the Knight’s face.

He didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked amused.

‘Don’t touch her, please.’ Merlin whispered, looking back to where Gwen was serving Uther, before he looked to the Knight.

‘I don’t make deals with servants.’

**

‘A girl, maybe? A pretty serving girl that you had your eye on?’

‘She’s my friend.’ He snapped, before he could stop himself.

The man looked delighted, taking a seat.

‘What’s her name?’ Merlin paused, knowing that it would not be a good idea to engage.

Then again, he wouldn’t be tortured if he rambled on.

‘Gwen.’

‘Oo, now that’s exciting. The Queen! I suppose she must have drawn attention, and not just from your noble King.’ Merlin stayed quiet, watching the man as he rose back up, reaching across the tools he’d used.

‘Did you offer yourself out in her place? Warm the beds of the Knights of Camelot?’ He teased, while Merlin rolled his eyes.

‘Oh yeah, obviously. All the time.’ The joke didn’t go down well, if the cold iron being brought to his stomach was any indication.

‘A bed-wench for Camelot’s men?’ Merlin gasped, gritting his teeth as the cold iron moved further south.

‘Well?’

‘It was only once.’ He snapped, before his head dropped down in shame.

‘A Knight of Camelot?’ Merlin looked up, found his stomach rolling in shame.

‘Does it matter?’

‘It wouldn’t have been easy, seeing the Knight every day.’

The Knight had died in the Dragon attacks, and Merlin had never felt happier.

‘Bet it kept your girl safe.’

‘She wasn’t my girl.’ Merlin stated, unable to help the defensive tone.

‘So there is a girl belonging to Emrys?’

**

‘You never look at me anymore.’ Freya whispered, looking across from where she was perched in the sand.

Merlin tensed up, but he did glance over in her direction, forcing himself to look into the not-quite human gaze.

‘Freya…’

‘I know I’m not the girl you wanted to run away with.’ She admitted, leaving Merlin to reach out for her.

There was no warmth to her skin, just the slight moisture of the lake and the coldness of death.

**

He might have made a sound, a scream as the nail was yanked free from his foot. It was a sharper pain than expected, and the Warlock forced himself to blink back the dark spots dancing over his vision.

‘What was her name?’ The man asked again, while Merlin gulped in air.

‘F-freya.’ It hurt, even to say it in this cell, to say it when he was being tortured for it.

‘She’s dead, then.’ He winced, thinking back to how stupid he had been not to notice the past tense used in the question.

‘Did you kill her?’ Indirectly, it had been Merlin.

‘No.’ He lied, eyes darting unwillingly to his King.

Arthur was staring right back at him, horrified. That was the only emotion that Merlin could call it, and he looked away quickly.

The man followed his gaze, slowly working through the thoughts in his head before it clicked.

‘The King! Your precious King, he killed your lover!’ Merlin couldn’t even find it in him to deny it, not when every muscle in his body ached.

‘He didn’t know.’ Merlin mumbled, blaming the blood loss for the fact he promptly slumped.

**

‘I just want everyone to be safe.’ Merlin muttered, looking across to where Arthur was lying in his bed, unconscious. An almost-fatal run in with a group of bandits, the King being injured enough that Merlin had healed him right there, out in the forest.

‘You can’t protect everyone, my boy.’ Gaius told him, not that it changed Merlin’s mind.

He’d protect Camelot and her residents until the day he died.

He left Gaius, moved back to the King and perched on the edge of the bed.

Gwen had left, to give Merlin some space. How ridiculous was that? The Queen of Camelot, the wife of the man injured, abandoning him so that Merlin was there.

‘You better wake up soon, you prat.’ Merlin let his fingers drift over Arthur’s forehead, back to the golden hair that made him so recognisable.

Merlin knew there wasn’t a day where he wouldn’t put Arthur’s happiness above his own.

**

He gasped, jerking against the chains as cold water dripped down his body, soaking his remaining clothing as he looked to the two men.

The noble eyed him up and down, lingering on his burnt feet, missing most of the nails.

‘Where’s the High Priestess?’

‘Safe from you.’ He shot back, grinning even when a knee was brought up into his groin, the pain almost bad enough that he went back into his unconscious state.

He was getting impatient, Merlin could tell.

The noble reached for a knife, ignoring the warnings from his henchman, stepping forward and moving the blade till it rested just under Merlin’s eye.

Face to face, inches apart, Merlin smirking up at the man and waiting.

‘Where is she?’ He hissed, Merlin looking to the knife, then back to the noble.

‘Safe.’ He said, letting out the air he’d been holding when the knife dropped.

Unfortunately, it returned to his skin, slipping under the waistline of his sodden breeches.

Merlin snorted, rolling his eyes as he let his head fall back.

‘Not many would laugh with a knife pressed _here_.’ The word was accompanied by the blade against his skin, Merlin’s toes curling as he tried to control his breathing.

‘Chop it off, then. I still won’t tell you where she is.’

Luckily, the noble did not call his bluff.

**

‘It’s a good thing you’re not attracted to me.’ Morgana stated, undoing the last of the strings of her dress. Gwen sniggered, a lot more conservative in her choice of swim-wear.

Merlin ignored them both, looking away from Morgana’s bare back to stare at the Lake.

‘How hard it must be for you to admit that.’ He teased, then frowned when her Magic blew leaves into his face.

‘Not even I could turn your attention away from drunken Knights.’ Her words, while friendly, did make Merlin’s heart stutter.

‘Well, if you’re so sure, you could always turn around.’ His joke had Guinevere laughing, Morgana calling his bluff as she did turn to face him, but his eyes never drifted from her face.

‘Honestly, Merlin, are you even a man?’ The sarcasm in her tone was heavy, lilting her voice to an accent that was far from noble.

‘I assure you, my Lady, I have all the parts.’

**

‘He’s got to be in love with her.’ The noble muttered under his breath, while the torturer shook his head.

‘I don’t think so. He seems to protect her out of a love far greater than that.’ Merlin hid his grin, simply let himself hang from the cuffs.

Morgana was almost in Camelot. He could feel it in his bones, her familiar presence inside his mind. It was only now that he considered the fact that he should have made it a two-way connection.

No, she’d have walked straight into danger.

‘But our reports, they said they spotted the woman being dressed by him, by the lakeside.’

‘In the presence of the Queen. I highly doubt it was anything inappropriate.’

‘So it’s a man.’

‘What?’ The torturer inquired, confused.

‘If the Queen of Camelot is so unworried about a man that close to her, our little Sorcerer has his eyes set on a man.’ Merlin’s heart clenched, body tensing, far too obvious.

‘Why, it would appear you’re right, milord.’ A hand gripped his chin, nails digging in as he was forced to look up.

Merlin opened his eyes, meeting the torturer’s gaze, then the man behind.

They were getting complacent, Merlin thought, glancing to the keys at the noble’s waist. Once Morgana was safe, once she’d made it back to Camelot with the Queen, he could act.

‘How many men can he see on a regular basis?’ The noble wasn’t as idiotic as he looked. His gaze drifted back to those in the Cell, while Merlin scolded himself for his stupidity.

‘It can’t be the King. He cares too much for the wife.’

‘And not those two, they’re clearly more than friends.’ The torturer pointed between Percival and Elyan, while Merlin bit his lip.

That left three.

‘What do we know about them?’ The noble asked, his interest in Merlin diminished as he looked to those gagged in the cell.

‘That one is Sir Leon, First Knight of Camelot. That,’ He gestured vaguely at Lancelot, ‘Is Sir Lancelot, a peasant-born Knight.’ Merlin flicked his gaze to Lance, watched the understanding on his face, the fear.

Merlin had to get the attention back on him.

‘And finally, we’ve got the snappy one. Sir Gwaine, I believe.’

‘He looks familiar.’ The noble took a step closer, Merlin panicking as he realised that the noble might _recognise_ Gwaine.

‘I could have sworn…’ Merlin acted, even if it was irrationally. His legs kicked out, hitting the bottom of the table and sending his waterskin toppling, spilling out over the floor.

Gwaine’s noble heritage was safe, but Merlin most definitely was not.

‘Try the torch again. Sorcerer’s hate fire.’

Merlin breathed out in relief.

**

‘Merlin?’ He bustled past the Knight, chest heaving as he tried to escape, tried to get away from the smoke still caught up in his lungs.

With his head spinning, he sunk down to the cobbles, felt warm hands snatch his up. Gwaine crouched down, didn’t ask why Merlin needed the comfort, simply waited until the Warlock’s breathing evened out.

‘Want to explain what happened?’ He asked, concern lacing his tone as he reached to ruffle Merlin’s hair.

Merlin had been excited for the bonfire. It was stacked high, people laughing and dancing around it, but he’d made the mistake of getting too close. Of letting the smoke fill his lungs, aching in a way that he could imagine, that he’d dreamt of night after night.

‘I don’t like fire.’ He whispered, didn’t need to tell Gwaine why.

The Knight’s eyes widened, before he was wrapped up into a hug.

‘I won’t let you burn.’

**

Merlin did have a weakness when it came to fire. The torch was alight, smoke filtering into his lungs, combined with the scent of burning skin making him gag, choking on his own fear as he tried to jerk back from the Pyre.

_Morgana’s almost in Camelot._

Gwaine was making pained sounds from the cell, chains rattling and drawing Merlin’s attention, his eyes darting over and begging silently for his help.

He may not be able to take away the fact that Merlin was being burned alive, but he could take away the fear. Merlin trusted Gwaine, without hesitation.

His brain relaxed into a fog, body quite content to follow the lead and drift into unconsciousness.

**

‘No, more like this.’ Morgana’s back arched, legs bending in a weird shape as she pushed her stomach to the sky.

‘I don’t see why I have to do this.’ Merlin grumbled, tucking his feet under him and trying to copy her form. His shirt hit him in the face, making him splutter, before he lost his balance and hit the ground.

Morgana laughed, before nudging him gently.

‘It’s a good thing, being flexible. Not just for bedroom activities.’ He protested, most definitely not needing to hear about Morgana’s sex life, especially not when he knew who she was sneaking out to meet.

‘Never say the words bedroom activities with me again.’ Morgana pouted, called him a spoilsport, but did watch as he attempted the position again.

‘Good. This will help when we start training with daggers.’

He huffed, wondering why he’d ever let the High Priestess convince him into this mess.

**

He could have laughed, had he not needed to be quiet.

Morgana was in Camelot, wrapped up safe within the walls. The Once and Future Queen was safe, so Merlin was finally free to act.

The noble was alone, poking at Merlin’s burned stomach while he was supposed to be unconscious. They may not know Morgana was home, yet, but he did.

His eyes opened, fingers gripping the chain above his head just in time for the noble to realise he was awake, jerking back in fear.

Not quick enough to avoid Merlin’s thighs, which wrapped around his neck as he pulled himself up, his arms protesting at the weight. It wasn’t difficult to tighten them, to lock around and squeeze, fingers desperately trying to scratch at his thighs as he held firm.

‘Keys.’ He grunted, waiting.

When the noble didn’t make any move to give them across, Merlin clenched his muscles, waited until the man stopped flapping and slowly dropped.

The keys were easy enough to pick up, considering his feet were bare. It did hurt, considering they’d been burned, but he was far too pumped up on shock to even consider stopping.

Gwaine was grinning at him, that proud look that had Merlin smiling in return.

Now, the small issue of getting the keys to the chains above him.

This was the part that he knew would hurt, would take almost everything out of him.

He moved back as far as he could, onto his tiptoes to give himself some leverage to swing. He then pushed off, ignoring the way the burns rubbed against the stone, bending his spine as he swung his legs up towards his head.

Upside down wasn’t his favourite position, especially not when his back had been torn apart, and he could taste the blood as he hung there. His toes gripped the key tighter, moving to the lock while Merlin tried not to pass out.

It took far too long, but when the click sounded, he’d never been happier. With one hand free, he let his legs drop, snatching the keys and undoing the second hand.

The skin under the cold iron was black.

Not that he cared, for in that moment, his Magic came rushing back into his body. Merlin wobbled, knew his eyes were glowing as he tried to heal the worse wounds.

He vaguely had just enough coordination to release the Knights from their bindings, grimacing when his head spun.

‘Morgana’s back in Camelot.’ Were the words he tried to say, though he was pretty sure it came out as a garbled mess, before he pitched forward rather unceremoniously into the King.


	2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's angry

The sound of glass shattering had the people of Camelot hiding from the High Priestess, who ran through the corridors. She shoved past Arthur, uncaring that she pushed Leon aside to do so, finally halting when she saw Merlin.

Merlin. Her Merlin, her best friend, the only man that she’d ever trust entirely. He was unconscious, that much was clear, body covered in blood that she suspected was entirely his.

Gwen choked back a sob, wobbling in the doorway to the room, before Arthur reached out for her.

Nobody reached for her, probably because her eyes were golden and her skin was itching with the need to kill, to _burn_.

Gaius moved aside without her asking, allowing her to reach his body. Fingers crept out, tracing over the dried blood and lingering when she reached the cut at his side. It was bad, even with Magic to heal it, so she continued her journey until her fingers reached his jawline. Sharp, soft cheeks and matted hair, bruising that looked painful.

‘Emrys.’ She whispered, pleading with him to wake.

‘My Lady, we need to get him clean.’ Gaius told her, but he still did not try and come closer.

Morgana didn’t have to use a spell to summon the basin and rags, simply held her hand out for them.

‘Leave us.’ She ordered, not bothering to look back at her brother.

The Knights did not want to leave. Whatever they had seen, whatever they had heard, it made them want to stay by his side.

Whoever had done this had targeted Merlin. Not Arthur. They wanted information, information that only a sorcerer could give.

That meant it was probably something to do with her. She knew that Agravaine had gone behind her back, moved to the Saxon army to try and extract his revenge upon the Pendragons. Merlin had been hurt because of _her._

Eventually, when her hands were shaking too much, when her sobbing was too loud to continue cleaning, hands took the rag from her hand.

Arthur crouched down on the other side of the bed, waiting for her permission to reach out.

‘It was me, wasn’t it?’ She whispered, watching as the King began to clean away the blood.

‘Morgana…’

‘They did this because of me.’

‘No. This is not on you. I… We couldn’t do anything.’

**

Merlin tried to roll over, grumbling as he snuggled closer to the source of Magic by his side. He heard a faint chuckle, kicked his leg over Morgana’s hip and tucked his head under her chin. She always knew how best to comfort, especially when his Magic was in turmoil.

Wait.

He froze, wincing when he unintentionally tensed up. Muscles ached, his stomach burning as he tried to shift away, blinking back the exhaustion as he looked up.

Morgana’s eyes were red-rimmed, but she looked pleased that he’d woken, a hand cupping his cheek as she smiled.

‘I was worried you’d sleep forever.’ She murmured, while Merlin tried to call upon his Magic to identify what was wrong with him.

Then he remembered. The cell, the cold iron…

His wrists were black. He sat up sharply, ignoring the nausea that came with the movement. They weren’t alone in his Chambers, there were other people talking, voices that he could hear speaking as he stared at the skin.

Cold iron was painful, even without elongated periods of exposure. This was bad, and it _hurt_.

‘Merlin.’ Fingers guided his chin up, made him look at Morgana, who smiled softly.

‘You need rest.’

Merlin’s next instinct was to look for Arthur, pausing when he found the King sitting at Merlin’s desk. He looked tired, but was smiling in Merlin’s direction, even if the emotion was haunted by guilt.

Right. The things he’d admitted to,

Guinevere wasn’t in the room, nor was Elyan, so Merlin presumed they were together. Percival and Leon were in the far seats, slumped over and both snoring, clearly unaware that Merlin had woke up.

Lancelot and Gwaine were both awake, one looking a hell of a lot worse than the other. Lancelot smiled, the kind of smile that was given when Merlin had done something reckless, but they’d both made it out alive. He was used to that smile, returned it, before looking to Gwaine.

He was slightly drunk. Or maybe sober, but he’d definitely been drinking at some point. His clothes were a mess, knuckles crusted with blood and possibly fractured, from the way he cradled his hand.

‘Merls.’ Gwaine choked out, when Merlin dared to look up.

‘Gwaine.’ The Knight came rushing across, pausing at the edge of the bed like he was unsure.

Merlin was the same.

Morgana huffed, sliding out from under him.

‘He needs rest. I’ll be back with some food.’ Gwaine got the hint, clambered up onto the sheets and offered out an arm.

Merlin didn’t hesitate to lean into him.

**

The next time he woke up, it was to Arthur.

‘A’thur?’

‘Easy, you need your medicine.’ Merlin let the hand guide him up, gulping down the foul-smelling liquid.

Once he was done, Arthur perched on the edge of the bed, Merlin staying sitting up as he did so.

‘I’m sorry…’

‘I should have…’

They both froze, before Merlin chuckled.

‘Sorry. Go ahead.’

‘Merlin, I wanted to… apologise.’

That was… unexpected.

‘I know I haven’t always been understanding of your Magic,’

Arthur’s hands were shaking.

‘And I know you still hide a lot from me, from us,’

Arthur’s hands never shook.

‘But I…’

Merlin was pretty sure he was supposed to listen, rather than wrapping his arms around the King. Arthur tensed, before returning the hug, avoiding the nasty wounds on his back. It was nice, to hug Arthur and know that the King wasn’t going to pull back.

‘This isn’t your fault.’ He murmured, knowing he’d hit the problem when the King flinched.

‘You’re not a Knight…’

‘No. I’m not, but I serve _you._ I serve Camelot.’ Arthur fell silent, but a hand drifted to Merlin’s (surprisingly clean) hair, keeping him close.

‘I don’t want you hurt.’

‘I don’t intend on it, not for a while, anyway.’ He teased, ignoring the way Arthur huffed.

‘Clotpole.’

‘That’s my word!’ Merlin protested, pulling back and pouting.

Arthur’s eyes were shining with tears, but he looked away sharply, clearing his throat.

‘And… you can tell us anything, you know that?’

They were talking about what he’d said, back in that cell.

‘Are you giving me an excuse to talk about my feelings?’ Merlin teased, watching the way Arthur’s lips quirked up at the corners.

‘Merlin.’

‘Yes, Sire?’

‘Shut up.’

He couldn’t help but grin up at his King.

**Author's Note:**

> No clue my dudes, no clue


End file.
